


Day 7: Free Day #1

by WatermelonTuesdays



Series: Sheith Monster Fuckers 2019 [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Anal toys, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Bring Meee to Liiiiife!, First Kiss, First Meetings, Golem Shiro, Hermit Keith, M/M, Made For Each Other, Masturbation, Sculpting, Sculpture, Shiro is made for Keith - literally, Spells & Enchantments, Top Shiro (Voltron), Witch Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatermelonTuesdays/pseuds/WatermelonTuesdays
Summary: Keith is lonely so he makes himself a friend to play with. AKA: Keith fucks Shiro to life.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Sheith Monster Fuckers 2019 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500824
Comments: 18
Kudos: 179
Collections: Monster Fuckers Sheith Month





	Day 7: Free Day #1

The harvest moon is a powerful moon. It is a moon of cultivation, of the exchange of energy; and due to its proximity to Samhain it is rife with spiritual energy as the spirit worlds and physical worlds prepare to collide. For witches, the night of the harvest moon is a time for spells. They save strength and horde resources year-long, preparing for the spells they can perform on that one night when their magics soar.

Keith is no different, except, perhaps, that he has been planning this spell for far longer than one year. Years he’s toiled, honing his craft, learning the sigils, perfecting the rituals. He hasn’t exactly started from scratch, but it damn well feels like it the way he’s laboured over this spell until it’s perfect. He’s cobbled together a ritual out of scraps of ancient spells, rumours of new magics, techniques of his own devising, and pure unadulterated gumption.

Over the course of the last year, he has gathered his materials. The black candles infused with ash from the red god’s fires. The rock altar carved with runes by the yellow god’s priests. The anointing oil made from the vines in the green god’s garden. The sacred waters from the blue god’s pool. The ether ink from the black god’s tomb. 

And most important of all, the sacred clay from the quintessence fields. Keith has spent weeks cultivating the clay by the barrowful and secreting it away in his secluded forest home.

For the past week he has worked with the clay, moulded it, sculpted it. He has laid it out atop his altar and formed it into the shape of a man. 

Though Keith will admit he is no artist, with no talent for sculpture, he is pleased with his work. The proportions are correct, though exaggerated. The man he is making is larger than any Keith has ever seen, fully two heads taller than Keith, with large arms, thick thighs, and a shoulder-to-waist ratio most would kill for. 

There are no details on his man, except for a curl at the top meant to be hair, and the impression of eyes, nose, and ears upon his face. The muscles, joints, nails, and all the rest are still hidden in the clay, but they are unnecessary. The only detail that matters, that truly matters, is the one Keith works on starting from sunrise on the morning of the harvest moon: the penis. Chiseled and sanded to perfection, the clay erection stands proud and unmoving over the body of Keith’s creation. 

As the day turns to evening and the harvest moon begins to rise over the horizon, Keith rushes to prepare. He anoints his man’s head and feet with the oil, then paints the body with the sigils. 

The black ether ink lines the clay body. The sigils run around the width of each arm and leg, they scrawl across his chest, across his nose, and line under his feet. Keith marks the energy points at feet, wrists, groin, stomach, heart, and head. 

It is a long and exacting process, and more than once Keith fears he’s made crucial mistakes. His hand fumbles over the lines at the man’s arm and over his nose, but there are no do-overs when you’re writing deep magics with ether ink, so only time will tell if Keith has ruined his spell before he’s begun.

The sun sinks lower and Keith can feel the power of the harvest moon start to infuse him like fire in his blood.

He lights the black candles and sets them around the altar. He puts out all other light save for the fire in the hearth, allowing the glow of the sacred flame to light his ritual. The spell starts with an incantation. It is long and tricky, in an ancient, primal language Keith spent years learning to understand. While he speaks, he anoints the body again, this time touching drops of the oil to the half-shaped clay of the man’s ankles, wrists, neck, and temples. 

He can feel the powers of the gods awaken to his beckoning, called to his aid through the strength of the full moon. 

Next, Keith takes the vial of sacred waters and takes a drink, wetting his lips in the process. Then he leans over his creation and presses a kiss in the indent where the man’s mouth will be. The kiss and the waters link them together, and immediately Keith feels the beginning of a connection. 

There’s nothing to the man yet, he’s still just clay, but Keith can feel the channels opening, making room for more.

Keith gives his man another drop of water, then sets the vial at his side. He circles the man slowly and recites more incantation. This time as he moves, Keith runs his fingers along the clay, feeling the body that this will soon become. 

Soon, cool clay will be warm flesh. Hard stone will give way to supple skin and strong muscles. This ill-defined form will melt away to reveal something beautiful and striking. Something amazing.

Some _one_ amazing.

The incantations and anointing take hours, but Keith doesn’t falter. If anything, the closer he gets to finishing this step, the more excited he feels. The next part is the fun part.

When Keith finally finishes, he takes his time preparing for the next step, letting the anticipation build and simmer low in his gut. 

He toes off his shoes and pads around the warm, packed earth of his floor barefoot. He loosens his robes and shrugs them down to his elbows, savouring the feel of the fabric as it slides down his arms. 

Keith takes his time undressing, and he pretends that his creation is watching him with interest as he does. He imagines sharp eyes, looking him over, appreciating the hard lines and juxtaposing curves of his body. He makes believe that the erection he sculpted and smoothed is the man’s response to him. 

So, as Keith lets his robes billow to the ground, he turns with a saucy smile to give his creation a view of his pert little ass as he slips his underwear down to the floor. Give his man a little show. 

Keith returns to his creation’s side, with the anointing oil in hand. This last bit of anointing is not done with dots of oil, or quick swipes across the man’s forehead. This takes handfuls.

Keith pours the anointing oil into his hand and watches the golden colour glisten as it catches the light from the candles. It looks sweet as honey as it drips between his fingers. 

Keith coats the oil over the penis he so lovingly crafted. It’s perfectly smooth against his palm, and large enough it barely fits in Keith’s hand. It takes the oil well, without absorbing into the clay, but still Keith adds more and more. He strokes his man, letting the oil slick between his fingers and smooth the glide of his hand. 

He pretends his man likes it. That he’s making soft, pleased noises as Keith squeezes him slow and tight. He imagines the sharp intake of breath as his thumb slides over the tip, and the way his man would grip at the table when his thumb continues to circle and circle. He’d tease his man until he got tears in his eyes from feeling so overwhelmingly good. 

Keith is getting a little hot under the collar from this as well. Just the motion of his hands, up and down against a hard length, is enough to make him want to pant. His own cock is as half-mast and it’s growing. 

But Keith needs to get on with the show.

He trickles a little more oil over his creation, then climbs onto the table and straddles the clay. It feels rough against his legs and cool along his inner thighs, but the cock that nestles between Keith’s cheeks is smooth and slick and delightful. 

Keith lets his hips work a little, letting it slide between his ass cheeks, building more anticipation until he cannot bear it any longer. Then he lifts himself high and fits himself around that fat cock. 

Keith is already wide and loose from earlier prep, and the sacred oil soothes the stretch so that he can slink down in one slow movement until he’s fully seated over his creation.

The cock was warmed a little by Keith’s hands, but it still feels cool inside him. It’s hard in an unforgiving way, but Keith likes it just the same. It’s no different from his polished wooden cock he enjoys on lonely nights – except this is both thicker and longer.

As soon as Keith has all of his man inside him, he can feel their connection grow. The magic off the full moon washes over Keith and channels through him into the clay figure beneath him.

Slowly, Keith lifts himself up to the tip of the clay cock, then he slides back down. By now Keith is fully erect. He feels gorgeous and full, and there’s no small amount of affection towards his creation for making him feel this way already.

There’s one last, short incantation to recite and Keith does it quickly as his hips start to set a slow, easy pace. 

This cock is so _big_ and unforgiving, but as Keith moves, he finds he can take is easier and easier, like his body is moulding around it. 

As the last words of the incantation slip from Keith’s lips with a sigh, he feels a surge of power shoot through him into the clay. It makes his breath hitch and his body clench around his man. The ink sigils start to shine with power, activated through Keith’s words and the devotion he is showing his creation. 

The clay starts to move beneath him, the edges smoothing out and taking shape. Keith concentrates on the image of the man he wants. The taut muscles, the kind eyes. The clay shifts, slowly turning into Keith’s ideal as he starts to fuck himself in earnest, his cock drooling precum onto the clay stomach. 

As the man takes shape before him, Keith notices the sigils on one of the arms don’t glow the way the others do. The clay on that arm shifts about more wildly than the rest as well, changing into drastic shapes before returning to a formless blob. It hurts Keith when the arm gives out, crumbling to dust upon the altar, but there’s nothing more he can do. That’s his own failure, but the rest of the man is coming into view and Keith must concentrate. 

The clay heats under Keith’s touch. It’s turned smooth as silk and becomes lifelike. Keith can’t help but reach out and touch his creation’s face, holding that chiselled jaw. 

Shiro: Keith decides. It comes to him suddenly as he works himself over his creation. His name will be Shiro.

The power running through Keith increases as he speeds his hips further, chasing his end. Shiro is nearly complete, and Keith is so close to his release. He lets himself revel in the pleasure of being skewered, of the fullness he feels with each drop of his hips. Shiro is thick and long and he reaches all the right places deep inside Keith.

Just as he’s about to come, Keith drops over Shiro and presses a kiss to his lifelike lips. 

Keith splatters his seed across Shiro’s chest and breathes the breath of life into the clay as he rides out his orgasm. There’s a rush as immense power slams through Keith into Shiro, and then there’s a silence so profound it leaves a ringing in Keith’s ears.

The candles blow out, leaving them lit only by the dim light of the hearth.

And then Keith feels the breath returned against his lips.

A hand rises from the altar and fits itself around Keith’s waist, spanning his entire body with velvety warmth.

“M… master?” Shiro says tentatively.

Keith is still panting from his orgasm, and from the blast of power that’s just flowed through him, but he nods and rubs his thumb over Shiro’s cheek.

“I’m here.”

“You… you made me.” Shiro sounds astonished, in awe of Keith. 

Before Keith can answer, Shiro’s grip on Keith’s hip changes, pressing Keith down over Shiro’s now-flesh erection. A strangled cry escapes Keith as he feels Shiro’s cock flex within him, hard and ready.

“Shi-roo…” Keith starts, but he’s interrupted by Shiro’s mouth against his own. 

Christ! The man may have just been born, but he knows how to kiss! Shiro’s tongue licks into Keith’s mouth and dances with Keith’s. 

“Wai-” Keith attempts to caution as he feels Shiro start to lift Keith’s hips with intent. He doesn’t get the word out because a moment later Shiro is pulling him back down and stuffing him full. “Ahhh…” Keith moans. He closes his eyes, feeling that hard slide inside lighting him up once more.

Then they’re moving, Shiro wrapping his arm around Keith and shifting them until Keith is the one on his back and Shiro is the one leaning Keith over the altar. 

“Shi-” Keith starts, but he can’t even say that much because Shiro immediately begins to thrust. His rhythm is long and slow but determined. His kind eyes – the exact kind eyes Keith had imagined into existence just moments before – study Keith with a passion. He stares with the intensity of a man mapping Keith’s every expression down to the smallest nuances. 

It’s embarrassing and stimulating all in one. 

Keith wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist and his arms around Shiro’s neck, urging Shiro to fuck into him with abandon. 

Shiro does, picking up intensity and enthusiasm as he goes, until the massive rock altar is moving from the force of his fervor. 

“Thank you for giving me life. Thank you for giving me this,” Shiro pants into Keith’s ears. His good hand is gripped hard at Keith’s shoulder, his face buried in Keith’s hair. “I love you.”

Keith’s toes curl as Shiro fucks another orgasm out of him, then slams into him, chasing his own end. 

Shiro collapses against Keith in the aftermath. They pant together, and Keith can feel the thunder of Shiro’s heartbeat against his own chest. 

He’s really real. Alive and well. 

He’s scarred over the nose from Keith’s imperfect sigils, and his arms is crumbled to dust, but he’s here. And he’s Keith’s.

Besides, Keith is already formulating a contraption that’s half science, half magic that will serve as a better arm for his creation than any clay could ever hope to be. 

Once their hearts have calmed to a steady beat – Keith can’t help but note how they beat in unison from their shared life force – Keith draws Shiro over to a large tub of water he heats with magic and scents with dried lilacs. He introduces himself to Shiro as he scrubs Shiro clean. Then he steps into the tub with those long legs of his and settles himself in Shiro’s lap, letting Shiro return the favour. 

When they’re clean and dry, Keith clothes Shiro and leads him to their bed, piled high with blankets, and shrouded from the rest of the simple forest hut by thin curtains. 

Star charts line Keith’s ceiling, lit by a simple spell to glow and change with the night sky above. Keith holds Shiro in his arms and points out the constellations, and the portents of happiness that mark the day of Shiro’s birth. 

They fall asleep in each other’s arms.

In the morning, Shiro is just as beautiful, bright, and sweet as the night before. He’s intelligent and kind and loves Keith deeply; it’s written in his eyes when they look at each other and Keith knows that same love is reflected back in his own.

He feels the same overwhelming sense of love and affection for Shiro the next morning. And the next. And all mornings for the rest of their lives together.

**Author's Note:**

> WOW! Writing day 7 almost feels like a step backwards but at the same time, it's nice to finally write one of the free days. I'm glad I left them for a bit because at first I had no idea what to do with them and now they're going to be full of all my horny thoughts I can't seem to fit into any of the other prompts. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me this far! The next one I'm posting is stupidly long, so there's that to look forward to. Though I don't know when it will be posted quite yet... my life gets busier the closer we get to Christmas (also, I've been re-watching Phineas and Ferb because that show is the shit!), but Imma try and get some more written in the next week. 
> 
> Thank you to all you beautiful monster fuckers who keep sending me comments and kudos! I love them! It really helps considering I've been a month+ longer working on these prompts than I meant to be. 
> 
> Twitter: [@WTuesdays](https://twitter.com/WTuesdays)  
> Tumblr: [WatermelonTuesdays](https://watermelontuesdays.tumblr.com/)


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